


Didn't Know I Was Starving ('Til I Tasted You)

by fio



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Awkward Flirting, Crush at First Sight, Falling In Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:32:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8289187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fio/pseuds/fio
Summary: The only reason Shiro made his way out to this part of downtown was to find him: The boy who Shiro walked in on counting cash in nothing but his underwear, body covered in kiss marks in the dorm bathroom, ignoring him easily while Shiro tried desperately not to stare.
Or, Keith is a hooker, Shiro thinks he wants to be a customer but realizes it's more than that, Keith gets more interested in his almost-customer than anyone he's known before, and neither of them are sure what exactly their relationship is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It'll come up later but to clarify, Keith is 19 and Shiro is 21. Please note there will be mentions and scenes of Keith/OCs since this is a rentboy AU and he has other customers.

"It's three hundred."

Shiro startles, nearly spilling his coffee all over the table, and whips around to see a young woman raising an eyebrow at him from the table over.

"Uh. W-What?"

"For the guy you're eyeing up. It's three hundred an hour, goes up from there depending on how long you want him or what else you want him to do," she explains.

Shiro balks and his mouth flaps uselessly open and closed for a few seconds as he tries to figure out how to deny he was even looking, let alone interested. She smiles at him kindly and winks, brushing her blond hair behind an ear.

"I'm not that expensive, though, if you don't have your heart set on him."

That makes Shiro's chest squeeze and stomach leap uncomfortably and he shakes his head. "I don't— I wasn't—" He falls silent, not sure what he's denying.

"Nobody comes down here unless they're at least thinking about it. But it's okay, pretty boy, I'm not judging. He's popular."

Shiro feels his face color as she leans away, no longer interested now that she won't be getting his business. He buries a hand in his hair and stares down at the table in an attempt to hide, squeezing his cup a little too hard and spilling cold coffee over his fingers. He feels mortified, even if the stranger doesn't care and nobody else in the run-down coffee stop pays him any mind either, but she's right. The only reason Shiro made his way out to this part of downtown was to find him.

The boy who Shiro walked in on counting cash in nothing but his underwear, body covered in kiss marks in the dorm bathroom, ignoring him easily while Shiro tried desperately not to stare.

He braves another glance up out the window and sees the young man he came here to find, whose name he doesn't even know, still perched on the back of a bench that looks ready to fall apart. He's talking to a tall stranger now, probably discussing terms and pricing or whatever he chats about with customers, and Shiro pushes out of his seat to leave.

Coming down here, Shiro didn't have much of an idea of what he wanted. But at least now he knows what it'll cost him to find out.

***

It takes a week of extra shifts and working through the entire weekend at the campus gym to get the cash. His boss shows concern for his sudden desperation for money, asking Shiro to his office and offering overtime pay if he's in trouble.

"A good student like you needs to focus on coursework," Iverson says but Shiro isn't shameless enough to accept.

"It's just a problem with my car that snuck up on me and now I have to deal with getting it fixed," he lies. "But uh, I should be fine after this week, sir, don't worry about me."

Iverson lets him go after that, none the wiser, though Shiro still feels weirdly guilty. It's even more awkward hiding it from the other students on his floor. Being an RA, he's rarely this absent unless it's midterms or finals, and a few people ask him what's up when he comes back late on Sunday night after barely being around the whole week. He doesn't bring up money and keeps his excuse vague, not sure who on his floor was the one who hired a prostitute and will realize _who_ exactly he's saving up for.

The real struggle after that is working up the courage to actually ask for his business.

Shiro drives back to the red light district on a Thursday afternoon, having only two lectures and no work scheduled. He sits in his parked car for two hours, turning down offers of the various people who knock on his window and feeling like a creep as he hopes the guy he's looking for will show. 

"You waiting around for anyone in particular?" the tenth person to stop at his car asks. It's a guy with no shirt on underneath his vest, his hair dyed bright purple and his prosthetic leg visible thanks to his maroon booty shorts.

Shiro hesitates, then realizes he has no reason to lie. "Yeah. He— uh, he's got black hair, looks like he hasn't cut it in a while. Average height, I guess, and slender. I heard he was... expensive."

The guy laughs and gives him a smirk. "You're here for Keith."

"Keith," Shiro repeats, licking the name off his lips slowly.

"I'll grab him for you, if you want. It'll cost you, though."

"Um. How much?" Shiro asks, immediately blushing. He's so out of his depth, but this is what he wants and he's already come this far. He doesn't know why he wants it so badly, but he does.

"Piss off, Rolo," comes a voice, grabbing the guy's attention away. Shiro's eyes follow and he sees who he's been waiting for coming over, pulling on a jacket and shaking out his damp hair, likely from a recent shower.

"I was just trying to be helpful," Rolo says, but he's smiling like he isn't being honest at all. He walks away from Shiro's car without a fuss though, and suddenly Keith is filling up Shiro's vision, his arms braced against the roof of the car so his face and torso take up the entire window. He's dressed ordinarily compared to the fashions Shiro has seen the last couple hours, but the black t-shirt beneath his red jacket is tight against his skin and Shiro's gaze catches on a sliver of exposed belly above his belt.

"Looking for me?"

Shiro's mouth goes dry and he can't get his voice to work so he nods instead. Keith's eyes drag down Shiro's face, his expression neutral as he considers him.

"I haven't seen you before," he says after a minute and Shiro feels a mix of disappointment and relief that Keith doesn't remember him gawking in the bathroom a few weeks ago. "But okay, you know who I am so you know what I charge."

Shiro nods mutely again and pulls the rolled up cash out of his jacket pocket, about to hold it up and hand it over when Keith laughs, kicking up a shock of butterflies in Shiro's belly.

"You've never done this before, have you?" Keith asks, pushing Shiro's hand back down into his lap. His fingers are warm and smooth to the touch and Shiro's stomach does several leaps as his heart begins to hammer.

"No," Shiro breathes, the first word his mouth manages to form, and Keith rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth tilting up in the hint of a smile.

"I'm gonna hop in the car, okay?"

Shiro makes sure the door is unlocked before Keith gets to the passenger side and slides in, running his hands over the interior curiously. He looks over at Shiro and raises an eyebrow when all Shiro does is sit there and stare at him.

"You have a place in mind or do you want motel recommendations?"

"Uh. That," Shiro says, then winces at how awkward that sounded. He clears his throat and clarifies, "Recommendations. Please." He's not about to bring Keith back to the dorm and let him bump into an old client which would just make things uncomfortable for everyone. Keith pulls out a phone and taps the screen a few times before a navigation voice comes out of the speakers.

"There's a place about five minutes from here. It's nice, not too expensive." Keith gives him a _look_ and adds, "Not that you'll be able to pay enough attention to the room to care."

Shiro swallows and looks away, starting the car. He follows the directions, hands squeezing unnecessarily tight around the steering wheel the entire trip. They don't speak on the drive over, and with the one glance Shiro's brave enough to steal, all he sees is Keith picking at one of his fingernails with his thumb. Keith follows him into the motel's lobby once they arrive and Shiro gets a knowing wink from the girl behind the counter that makes his chest squeeze unpleasantly. He gets a single room for the night and the two of them make their way to it quickly, Shiro's hands beginning to sweat with nerves.

Keith walks inside ahead of him, settling on the bed and spreading his legs out casually while Shiro stands hesitantly by the door as it closes behind him. 

"The first three hundred gets you an hour of blowjobs or anal, and I can top or bottom," Keith starts, matter-of-factly, "I've got plenty of condoms, nothing gets done raw. Any basic fetish stuff is negotiated starting at an extra hundred per hour per fetish, extreme kinks cost double, and I'll tell you what I will and will not do. Otherwise it stays at three hundred for every additional hour, but if you want me the whole night you get a discount so it's a flat thirty-five hundred and I'll even knock off the price of the room."

Shiro stares at him silently until Keith's eyes narrow and he leans forward, his elbows settling against his knees.

"So you know what you want?"

He does, and it isn't an hour of blowjobs or a night-long romp at a discounted price.

"I—" Shiro stops and lets out a breath. "I'm sorry. I can't do this."

Keith tilts his head and gives him a pitying look. "First time with a guy?"

"No, it's not that," Shiro says, starting to laugh.

It's hitting him only now why he felt so desperate and went so far, almost _possessed_ with his need to see Keith again. The _wanting_ part hasn't changed—Keith is so effortlessly beautiful and Shiro's butterflies haven't left since he first walked up to the car—but the arrangement is suddenly unsatisfying, disappointment filling his chest as he considers Keith's terms. 

Shiro doesn't just want sex with Keith. He wants _Keith_ , and he wants Keith to want him back, which he knows is ridiculous.

It's one thing to fall for a prostitute you've spent a lot of time with, mixing up business with personal feelings, but he didn't even get to go that far. Shiro doesn't know Keith at all, hadn't spoken to him and had seen him only once before this, gorgeous and nonchalant and so beyond his scope. He lets out one more laugh of disbelief at himself and scratches his fingers through his hair.

"I think... yeah, I think I'm gonna go."

Keith's expression doesn't change much, staring at Shiro with a mix of pity and irritation now. Shiro doubts anyone has flaked on him like this before, because why would they?

"You can keep the money," he says quickly, taking it from his pocket and tossing Keith the entire roll. There's over five hundred dollars there, since he wasn't sure how much he'd want or how much it'd cost and made sure to bring extra. He feels like an idiot, mortified by his own feverish effort to earn it. Keith catches it and stares at it with surprise before looking back up at Shiro, his eyebrows rising high on his forehead. The irritation on his face is gone, replaced by bewilderment.

"You can have the room for your next customer, too, or whatever you want. Sorry, I'm really sorry," Shiro says again, dropping the room keys on the small motel table beside him before pulling the door open and walking out quickly. He realizes he's stranding Keith here like an asshole, but there are buses, he just handed over more than enough cash for a cab ride, and they're not too far from where Shiro picked him up to begin with. He's just so desperate to get out of here, away from his infatuation and his embarrassment, that he can't make himself go back and offer Keith a ride.

Shiro gets in his car and almost peels out in the parking lot in his haste to escape.

***

Keith stares at the roll of money in his hand and very slowly unfurls it, counting the bills. This has never happened before, and he's not quite sure what to make of it. He pulls out his cell to dial Nyma and get a ride, but pauses and taps it against his chin instead.

The guy had been good looking. Tall, broad-chested and muscular, with a strong jaw and big hands. Keith is almost disappointed that he didn't at least get a taste, but he's got five hundred and twenty-seven bucks in his hands that he didn't have to take any clothes off for. He looks around the room and considers the guy's suggestion to use it with someone else but decides against it. He's already had two other Johns today, and after this almost-customer's generosity, he may as well help himself to a relaxing night alone.

Flopping up against the pillows, Keith tosses his phone aside and grabs the TV remote to look for something to watch. He doesn't bother paying for cable at his place so he can only follow shows that he can find online and sometimes he misses shitty daytime TV. But his eyes keep falling back to the cash, sorted by bill on the bedside table. Customers have canceled on him plenty—often times too stressed about cheating on their spouse at home or too drunk to get it up and so decide to bail—but they always try to get out of paying and they never say _sorry_ , looking genuinely regretful for wasting his time.

It makes Keith curious. And when Keith is curious, he can't really let things go.

***

"Lance, for the last time, _no_ you cannot plug in any kind of compact stove and cook in your room."

"But how am I supposed to make my food?"

"That's what the dining hall and your microwave are for."

Lance looks at Shiro pleadingly, putting on his best miserable face. "What else is a guy supposed to do when he's homesick but grab his mom's recipe and cook up a dish that reminds him of home?"

"It's very sweet that you love your mom's cooking so much, and I'll be sure to tell her so on Parents' Day. But it's against the rules to have anything other than a microwave in the dorms. You could set your room on fire. I'm confiscating this."

The fake-sadness is instantly replaced with loud indignance as he shouts, "But I paid for it! It's mine, I should get to keep it!"

Shiro levels him with an annoyed look. "Are you going to pay for everyone's stuff when you burn down the dorm then?"

Lance opens his mouth but, for once, decides against whatever he was going to say and pouts instead, grumbling under his breath in what Shiro graciously takes as a _no, please take my mini stove and I'm sorry for trying to break the rules_ response. His roommate Hunk pats him on the shoulder and gives Shiro an apologetic shrug before Shiro heads back to his own room, rolling his eyes.

Even with the new students this year, most of the people on his floor aren't a problem when it comes to the rules. Lance tries to get away with things he shouldn't, but he's quick to back down when Shiro stops him. He's had to break up a few arguments that got physical and confiscate some alcohol when they couldn't keep themselves quiet enough for him to overlook it, but compared to some other poor RAs like Thace a few floors up, his floor is filled with angels. He tosses the mini stove in a box by his closet, freshly labeled 'Confiscated Til Winter Break' that's already filled with things he's had to take from Lance, before sitting back down at his desk. 

Shiro manages to stare at his homework for all of a minute before his mind betrays him with sudden thoughts of Keith, and he drops his head forward with a groan.

He'd happily trade his floor of angels for Thace's mess if only so he could keep himself distracted and forget about his crush for a little longer. And it's a bad crush, he knows it is, because it's been over a week since his embarrassing encounter with Keith and he hasn't stopped thinking about him since. If anything, the desire to see him again is a hundred times worse than after running into him in the bathroom that first time because now he's heard Keith's voice and seen him smile. Shiro hasn't considered going back to find him again, because he doesn't want to sleep with Keith as a customer and now he can't afford to even if he did, but he doesn't know what to do to make it all go away.

Lifting his head up, Shiro grabs his headphones and puts on some music to try and help focus and get some work done. It takes about five minutes before he wonders absently if Keith would like what he's listening to and then he's shoving his headphones off and sagging in his chair.

"Why can't I use this damn math to fling myself into the sun? Huh? What use is my major if I can't send all my problems off into space?" he asks himself, rubbing his hands over his face.

Unable to concentrate, Shiro grabs his bookbag and shoves his homework and textbook in it so he can head off to the library. He's pretty good at forcing himself to work there and having other people around studying means any whining or bemoaning about the state of his crush-filled brain will need to be kept to a minimum. He writes a quick note on the whiteboard of his door— _AT LIBRARY check w/ allura upstairs or txt for emergencies_ —and then makes his way across campus.

Things go a bit smoother once he sets up his homework on a table near the entrance of the library. The stream of people going by gives him background noise that he can't somehow relate back to his crush and he actually manages to focus on his math assignments.

Shiro gets so engrossed that he doesn't notice at first when someone takes a seat across the table. It isn't until he hears a slow, "Takashi... Shirogane?" that he lifts his head and sees Keith looking over one of his worksheets curiously. Shiro's belly promptly bottoms out, like he's just been thrown onto a roller coaster diving towards the earth.

"Holy fuck," he blurts loudly, then feels his face turn red as a few of the people passing by give him weird looks.

Keith's eyes lift up in a gradual crawl up Shiro's body and when he meets Shiro's gaze, his tongue does a slow drag across his bottom lip, reminding Shiro of when he'd first learned Keith's name and tasted the sound of it. 

"Well, Takashi, you wouldn't know, would you? You ditched me before you got a chance to find out," Keith says in a quiet voice.

Shiro's belly flips again and his hands clench at the tease and his first name falling out of Keith's mouth. It takes him a few seconds to realize he's just crumpled up part of his homework. Shiro stares down at it as he tries to flatten it back out, unable to keep his eyes on Keith's face any longer, though he can still hear Keith's fingers tapping on the table lazily in front of him.

They're both silent until Keith mutters, "You're no fun."

"Sorry," Shiro whispers, frowning. His heart sinks hearing that he's made a bad impression, and bothered even more by _how_ dejected he feels about it. He barely knows Keith. This is ridiculous.

"No, I mean, you're so shy. I feel like I'm bullying you when I'm just trying to flirt." Shiro looks up at that, confused why Keith is clarifying. Keith's eyebrows are knitted together and his expression is a mix of regretful and confused. It takes a few more seconds before the words really register and he realizes— _did he just say he's flirting with me?_

"I... don't think I've ever been called shy before," Shiro says, surprising himself by being able to say _anything_ to that.

"So it's just—" Keith pauses, glancing around and considering where they are before continuing, "my job that make you uncomfortable around me? You were the one who came looking for me, though."

Shiro makes a face, because that's really not the problem. Sure, it complicates things, but he'd be just as awkward and lost around Keith if he was another student. He's always been a mess whenever it came to his crushes.

"It's not your job. Not, um, not exactly."

Keith's expression sharpens on him and Shiro feels pinned to the spot, his skin buzzing with sudden heat as his body snaps up in his chair to sit a little straighter and the air in his lungs leaves him with a quiet whoosh. It's as if Keith is looking _through_ him, determining whether Shiro is sincere and worth his attention, and Shiro desperately hopes that he is. 

"So what _is_ the reason then?" Keith asks. His tone is impatient and aggressive and Shiro is startled by it. It's the first time he's spoken in a way that isn't flirtatious or appeasing, the trained habit of someone whose job requires being both. Shiro realizes he's getting a glimpse of the real Keith, or at least a less patient Keith, and the thrill of it makes his chest burn pleasantly despite the harshness being aimed his way.

"You're just... really beautiful."

Shiro lets himself answer honestly because he doesn't know what else to say and he's already embarrassed himself so why not? Keith looks confused and then stunned and Shiro isn't sure if he's said the right thing. But then Keith blinks and his expression is back to neutral as he rummages around the pocket of his jacket and pulls out the roll of cash Shiro had given him.

"You can have this back," Keith says, tossing it at him. Shiro struggles to catch it before shoving it quickly into his bag to hide it from view. He glances around to see if anyone saw the exchange, worried they might think it's part of some illicit arrangement—which, technically, it was intended to be—and when he turns back to Keith's seat, he's already standing up and walking away. Panic grips Shiro at the sight of Keith leaving, despite having no plan to see him again a little while earlier. 

Shiro shoves all of his things into his bag in a messy hurry and runs out of the library after Keith, getting a few glares from staff as he rushes by.

"Wait!" he shouts, relieved when he sees Keith hasn't gotten very far.

Keith stops and turns to look at him as Shiro catches up, his expression kept blank.

"You could've kept it. I didn't ask to have the money back," Shiro says between breaths.

"Then do you want to hire me with it tonight instead?" Keith asks, raising an eyebrow.

Shiro balks, stuttering, "N-No, I just—" but the rest of the words die in his throat as Keith laughs quietly, shaking his head. 

"I never give refunds but you're actually trying to make me keep the money anyway. You're weird. I'll see you around, Takashi," Keith says as he turns and walks off, leaving Shiro stunned and frozen staring after him.

"Everyone calls me Shiro," he calls out before Keith gets too far. Keith gives him a wave but doesn't glance back at him and Shiro stands there watching until he can't see him anymore.

He makes the walk back to his dorm on auto-pilot after that, his legs somehow carrying him forward while his mind reels and tries to make sense of the whole encounter. The rest of his homework a lost cause for the night, Shiro lies on his bed and stares up at the ceiling, replaying Keith's laugh over and over in his ears. 

***

It's less than a week before Shiro bumps into Keith again. He's in line at the local frozen yogurt place after getting off his shift at the gym and suddenly Keith is there, grabbing a pink sample spoon and taking a scoop out of his cup.

It feels like everything's moving in slow motion, all of the air sucked out of the room so he has to hold his breath, and the hum of voices around them turns quiet in his ears. Shiro watches with wide eyes, entranced as Keith brings the spoon to his lips and sucks the dessert onto his tongue. The moment ends with Keith making a face, sticking out his lightly-stained blue tongue in displeasure as the familiar sensation of butterflies begins to fill Shiro's stomach.

"What the hell is that?"

Shiro looks down at it.

"Watermelon and blue raspberry."

Keith coughs a little, rubbing the back of his hand against his mouth. "You have the _weirdest_ taste."

"Does that make you weird?" Shiro asks before he can stop to think about it. Then he _does_ think about it because Keith is staring at him and he knows he's turning red already, his face so hot he worries it'll melt his frozen yogurt. "Um," he says helplessly, making Keith roll his eyes with a small smile.

"Go pay for your weird food. I'll be outside."

"Wait," Shiro says and Keith stops, half-turned away. "What flavor do you want?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. If you're making fun of my taste, then I want to know what kind you like."

Keith's demeanor shifts and his shoulders hunch up a little, glancing around at the other customers like he's self-conscious.

"It's fine, I don't want any."

Shiro watches him walk through the door and flop into a chair through the windows, baffled by the sudden change in him. But then again, he doesn't know Keith outside of their two very short meetings. Maybe he's more self-conscious when he isn't on the job? But the way he'd sucked on that spoon had been pretty confident...

He quickly shakes his head, not wanting to focus on _that_ image right now. He decides to get Keith a cup of vanilla anyway because he'd feel bad eating while Keith sits there and has nothing. It's not until he's at the register paying for his two cups of dessert that he realizes he has no idea why Keith is here or why he wants to talk to him in the first place.

"I got you some," Shiro says when he sits down across from Keith, pushing over the cup of vanilla. "I figured you'd at least be able to handle the basics, even if it's nowhere near as tasty as my tropical combo."

Keith snorts but doesn't respond or take his eyes off the frozen yogurt. Shiro stays quiet and takes small bites of his own, letting Keith take his time before finally picking it up and starting to eat with slow spoonfuls, though he doesn't make a show of it like he did earlier. The silence is comfortable as they eat, which is kind of surprising to Shiro. Considering how awkward he always manages to be around Keith, he's impressed the atmosphere between them hasn't soured at all from it.

"So. Why'd you bump into me tonight?" Shiro braves asking after a while, his spoon scraping at the bottom of his cup for the last bits of his froyo.

Keith grimaces, as if not sure if he should answer. It takes him a while to decide, sucking lazily on his spoon in a way that makes Shiro's dick jump once against his thigh in warning. He drops his eyes to the table and has to think about his physics homework for a minute.

"I actually came here to pass the time at the bookstore across the parking lot," Keith admits eventually. "I was gonna go to the library and the gym up at the campus and see if I'd bump into you again but when I was driving out on my bike I saw you walk in here."

Shiro lets that information sink in as he licks the mix of flavors off his teeth. His skin tingles and he's not sure if it's the thrill of Keith wanting to see him or the cold from his dessert finally hitting him. "Interesting. Didn't quite answer my question, though."

Keith's eyes flicker up to Shiro's face, the first time he's looked at him since Shiro handed him the frozen yogurt. Keith's face is neutral as he considers what to respond with and Shiro finds it fascinating how different Keith is tonight from the first time they properly met, and even from the other day. He's out of his element without business being the reason for their meeting and Shiro wonders why he would willingly leave it.

"You're weird." 

Shiro frowns, not sure if that's a good or a bad thing. "You keep calling me that."

"Well you are," Keith says with a shrug. He taps his spoon against the bottom of his empty cup. "You come downtown where you can find rentboys for a dime a dozen but you set your sights on me even though my prices are much higher, gather up the cash to hire me, wait hours for me, then ditch me two minutes after getting us a hotel room while telling me you're sorry and letting me keep the money."

Shiro's body tenses a little at finding out that news of all the staring and waiting around he did got back to Keith. It's also pretty awkward discussing this out here where there are people sitting at other tables. Everyone else is talking loud enough that they probably can't hear, but it still makes him a little nervous even if he doesn't recognize any faces around.

Keith frowns as he continues, "Then you tell me I'm beautiful when I ask why you ran in the first place, and you try to refuse the money I came to give back to you, which makes even less sense. And now you're buying me ice cream or whatever like we're on a date. It's weird."

Shiro's gut does a sudden leap at the word 'date.'

"I hadn't meant it like that," he says honestly, because that hadn't been his intention. But the hopeful part of him asks, "Do you... want it to be a date?"

"I don't go on dates or put out for free, if that's what you mean," Keith says flatly.

Shiro's gut promptly nosedives back into his pelvis and his fingers tighten around his empty dessert cup, squishing it a little bit. "Right, of course not. But I'm still a little confused. How did you even find me? _Why_ did you find me?"

Keith looks away again, this time staring off into the parking lot. "Wasn't hard. You're young, most likely a student with the book bag and worksheets I saw in the backseat of your car, which had an in-state license plate so you're from the area. You must've seen me from somewhere which is how you got interested in the first place and I don't go too far out of the city. Putting the two together, the last campus I had a job at was yours, so I gave it a shot."

Shiro's speechless for a moment after that, his mouth dropping open into a small 'o' as he stares. Keith is apparently very observant. They weren't in Shiro's car for very long and while Shiro didn't have the courage to keep his eyes on Keith for most of the ride, he hadn't noticed Keith doing any obvious snooping, yet he still managed to catalogue enough information to find Shiro later.

Shiro clears his throat when he snaps out of his thoughts, asking quietly, "How'd you know I'd be at the library? I usually don't go there unless it's near finals."

"Because I thought you looked like a nerd."

That startles a laugh out of Shiro and Keith brings his eyes back to him, smirking faintly before it drops away.

"It was just by chance. I saw a gym bag in your car along with the backpack but I didn't see you when I checked the athletics center. I poked my head in the library because it was on the walk back to my bike and happened to see you. If I hadn't, I was gonna keep the money and forget it."

The rush of relief that shoots through Shiro at having made the decision to go to the library that night is so strong he almost slips out of his seat. But he hasn't failed to notice that Keith is still holding back one answer.

"So... you came all this way to maybe give me my money back?" Shiro asks. Keith stays quiet and Shiro's eyes narrow, his heart beginning to pound nervously in his chest. "You said yourself you never give refunds, though. What made this time different? Why make the effort at all?"

Being an RA has given Shiro the very handy skill of being able to cut through people's bullshit and get to the point, but Shiro remembers the sharp, almost dangerous tone Keith had used back at the library when his patience had worn thin. He doesn't want to push Keith that far, because the last thing Shiro wants is for him to leave and not come back. But Keith is the one who's tracked _him_ down twice now. There has to be a reason for it.

"You weren't going to come back," Keith says, mumbling the answer down at the table. Shiro waits, breath held in his chest for more. Keith's eyes hold steady with his and for a moment Shiro thinks maybe, _maybe_ they both want the same thing and his heart starts to soar. And then Keith continues, "And ever since you canceled on me, even though you think I'm pretty or whatever, it's a personal challenge now to find out what it takes so you'll let me suck your dick."

The family at the table behind them swivels their heads around and stares at Shiro from over Keith's shoulders, having very clearly overheard that.

"Uh," Shiro blanches, his whole body going rigid. So much for Keith being out of his element. Shiro is so far from prepared for that answer that he just sits there uselessly frozen while Keith stands up from the table and takes both of their empty cups to toss them in the trash.

"Thanks for the dessert," Keith says from somewhere behind him. Shiro jumps a little when hands slide over his shoulders before the feeling of soft lips touches his cheek. "That's worth about a cup of froyo, I think."

"I-I—" Shiro stutters. He doesn't get further than that, Keith's hands slipping away already as he takes a few backward steps into the parking lot.

"Later, Shiro," Keith says, giving him a small wave before turning around.

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Shiro to be able to walk to his car without fear of falling flat on his face after that. 

***

The rushing sound of wind against Keith's helmet as he rides back towards his apartment does a poor job of shutting out his thoughts.

_'A personal challenge.' If he didn't already think I only care about sex, he definitely does now,_ he thinks in annoyance after the end of their conversation replays in his head for the twentieth time. He doesn't know why he said that. Well, okay, he said it because Shiro is always thrown off or flat out stumped whenever sex comes up in conversation, and he needed an out after admitting something pretty embarrassing. But he's pretty sure he's given the wrong message instead and he wishes he hadn't said it.

Changing the past is something he hates to start thinking about though, so Keith quickly shakes his head of that line of thinking and licks at the vanilla taste still lingering in his mouth. He can't remember the last time he had ice cream, and he's pretty sure he's never had frozen yogurt before, period. With the amount of cash he can make in a month he can afford it now, but he's never particularly craved it and it's hard to get out of the habit of spending only what's necessary on food. He wonders if it was the amount of sugar in the dessert he isn't used to that made him talk so much. He normally doesn't give up much of anything to anyone but he couldn't shut up tonight. It could also be that Shiro's just handsome and Keith's really weak to a gorgeous face. Rolo does like to call him shallow, after all.

Whatever it is, Shiro's definitely a weird guy. The 'personal challenge' thing was a lie, but Keith's not sure how to explain why he wants to go back and see him again already.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware, in this chapter there's more from Keith's POV this time so there are (short) scenes of Keith/OC customers. Excuse my silly obvious references to the show with the baseball team names lol. Happy Halloween!

Red meows loudly at the bathroom door, wanting to get in and be fed. Keith ignores her and continues to soak in his bath, his fingers playing with his hole. His most recent customers have all been the quick blowjob type or bottoms who didn't have an interest in playing with Keith's ass, so he's stretching himself for a bit before heading out to the streets today in case he gets any anal requests.

Sex can still be fun but Keith's lost a lot of the enjoyment of masturbation since sex became primarily business for him. When he used to do this, he'd get hard within a minute or two just from the sensation, but now his dick just bobs under the water, limp and uninterested. He stares at it because there's nothing else in the bathroom to stare at and wonders if his bush is due for a trim soon.

The question of what Shiro's dick looks like pops into his brain and Keith feels his own jerk in response and his fingers slip deeper inside him out of reflex. The movement makes his body shiver and a startled gasp slip from his mouth. He goes very still for a second and then decides his bath is over, pulling his hand away from his ass and calling it good enough for now. He lets the water drain and gets out to grab a towel, opening the door so Red will stop crying.

"Yeah, yeah, here's your damn breakfast," Keith says, filling her food bowl in the corner. She slaps him with her tail twice and he takes it as a 'thank you' even though it's probably a dismissal. When he stands and glances in the mirror at himself, his face is bright pink. "It's because the bath was hot," he mumbles into the room, as if Red needs to be convinced. She ignores him, content with gobbling down her meal.

He definitely isn't blushing. Absolutely not.

Once he's done drying off he pulls on his boxers, wanders into the kitchenette in his living room and pulls open the fridge, grabbing the nearly empty milk carton to make himself some cereal. He flips through his messages on his phone as he eats leaning against the sink. Only a handful of people have his actual cell number but he's made plenty of accounts on various chatting apps for messaging his more dedicated customers, and sure enough, he's got a few requests already for today. With his regulars he knows how long they'll want him and what they'll want and they don't try to be clever about payment. It's upfront in cash and then he's theirs, providing whatever services they've paid for.

Keith appreciates regulars, since their business means he doesn't have to go out and attract new Johns downtown, and though it's been fall for a few weeks, the weather is only just starting to really cool. He dresses way less extravagantly than the hookers like Rolo who go all out to grab attention by wearing flimsy tops and booty shorts, but even he gets chilly when he can't bundle up. If he does dress to stay warm to his liking, he stops looking like someone available for hire and starts looking like the donation clothes bin at a Goodwill, just layer after layer of mismatched scarves and coats and gloves.

When he was in the orphanage he came to the belief he must've been born in a desert considering how much he can't stand the cold. Some of the other kids managed to turn that into teasing that his parents were lizards, and Keith has yet to decide if he likes that idea or not.

Two of the requests are for different time windows so he sends them both responses about where to meet and a reminder of the price based on what they want and the rest he turns down before dropping his bowl in the sink and getting dressed. He sticks to his standard tight t-shirt and tight pants combo, slipping his knife into one of his pockets. He's never had to use it, but he doesn't feel comfortable without it. Grabbing his jacket and keys on his way out the door, he heads for the stairs.

Keith lives in an apartment building on the edge of the city so making his way to downtown for work takes a bit of time but his first customer isn't expecting him until late morning so he isn't worried about being late. He reaches his bike and undoes his helmet lock, slipping it on. He'll have to fluff out his hair a bit after riding since he does get pretty bad helmet hair, but he still isn't thinking about getting it cut despite what Rolo likes to say about his "mullet." It hasn't gotten _too_ unruly yet and plenty of his customers like to have something to grab hold of or play with.

_Would Shiro play gentle or play rough with it?_ pops into his head as he starts the engine and he grunts, annoyed.

It's been several days since he went to see Shiro the last time. Keith's decided to hold off on going back for the time being until he figures out what exactly he's after before he makes an ass of himself, but that hasn't shut his brain up. Everything being about _sex_ isn't making him feel any better about it, either.

He does his best to clear his head and not think of anything on his ride into town. When he arrives at the coffee shop where he'll be meeting up with his first regular, he orders the cheapest drink on the menu just for something to hold and maybe have a sip or two of while he sits at one of the tables.

After a while of sitting alone, trying to keep his mind empty, he hears a familiar voice greet him. "You look especially grumpy today, sweetie."

Keith rolls his eyes and doesn't bother looking up, knowing it's Nyma.

"This is just how my face looks."

"It's a shock you get so many requests then," she laughs, slipping into the chair beside him.

"Where's Rolo?"

"Ocupado. Where's your pretty boy with the undercut?"

Keith tenses. Nyma's the one who told him about Shiro eyeing him up the first time he came around after hearing from Rolo how he'd sat around waiting in his car for Keith, turning away anyone else who attempted to get his business. She and Keith are friends but both of them know she'd poach Shiro or any of his other customers if given the chance. Most of the people who book him are gay, so it's never been a serious concern. But the nebulous state of things between them—because Shiro _isn't_ a customer and Keith's not sure what his interests are beyond thinking Keith is good looking—has Keith more anxious about this idea than he'd normally be.

"Not here, obviously," Keith says, scratching at the surface of the table with one of his fingernails. When he was younger he liked to chip at things with his knife but he's been reprimanded enough to have dropped the habit, even if the itch is still there. 

"Ah. So he's more the type to order delivery. Shame, I liked his face and hoped he'd come by again while I'm around."

Keith gives her an annoyed look before dropping his eyes back to his drink.

"What? Don't get all touchy, college boys call for strippers and hookers to come to their campuses all the time."

"He doesn't do that."

Keith's feeling defensive, his shoulders hunching as he slips lower in his seat. He's not sure why—Shiro's reputation is already sealed as far as Nyma is concerned, having come down here at all in the first place. But when he glances up again, Nyma is staring at him curiously and he adjusts, trying to show it less.

"What's that supposed to mean? He's paying for you, isn't he?" she asks and Keith goes still. "That's why you keep going down there... right?"

He hadn't told anyone about how his first meeting with Shiro had gone. Most people working the street knew about Shiro because of his two-hour waiting stint where everyone got a good look at him while he turned them all down. But they all assumed he'd left a satisfied customer, because why wouldn't they, and now they clearly still assume he is one. But Nyma's expression is already changing, slipping from mild confusion to smug, knowing glee from Keith's lack of response.

"Oh... Don't tell me you're giving him _freebies_ ," she says, feigning shock, and Keith feels relieved that _this_ is her guess and not something else. "Your faithful customers will riot."

"Fuck off," he snipes at her, making her giggle. She mimes zipping her mouth closed with a wink and stands, walking away. He's not sure if letting her think that was a good idea or not, but he doesn't get much time to dwell on it. A finger taps at his shoulder and his head swivels upwards to see Edward, his first customer of the day.

"Hey," he greets.

"Hello, Keith," Edward smiles back. He's well into his fifties but still looks quite good, even though he dresses unremarkably when he comes down here. Keith thinks he's probably out in his personal life and could get a regular boyfriend, but he comes to Keith with lots of money for kink play requests that most partners probably wouldn't be into. Not that Keith would turn him down even if he _did_ have a partner elsewhere. He has to make a living, after all.

"Shall we go?" Edward asks, pulling Keith's chair back so he can stand up.

"Got a place in mind?"

"Already booked, for the next three hours." He pats his coat slowly and Keith's eyes linger on the bulge that is his wallet, packed full with over two thousand in bills.

Keith nods, finishing off his drink and following Edward out of the shop.

***

It feels _very_ nice to shower after his session with Edward. Keith's alone in the hotel room by the time he finishes getting clean, his satisfied customer not bothering to stick around. He checks his phone and sees he has roughly an hour before his next regular is supposed to meet up with him so he gets dressed, not bothering to dry his hair, and makes sure he's got his fresh cash and the rest of his belongings before heading out. He snags a cab ride from the fancy uptown hotel Edward had booked them in at, willing to splurge on the taxi fare rather than wait for buses and risk being late.

Keith stops the cab a few blocks away from the red light district since he doesn't mind walking the last leg. Most cabbies don't comment or care when they take people to the obvious hooker pickup spot, but Keith would rather just skip the hassle entirely. He hasn't thought about Nyma or their conversation this morning, considering he was otherwise occupied, but as he nears the coffee shop he feels a sudden spike of dread when he sees her.

Though the dread is less about her and more that Shiro is standing beside her, looking awkward and uncomfortable as she does her best to show off her cleavage and touch him flirtatiously.

"Uh. Shiro?"

Shiro's head turns and his face lights up when he sees Keith approaching, unease changing swiftly into relief. It makes Keith's legs feel lighter, almost like he's floating for his last steps as he makes his way over.

"Hey! I was waiting for you. I mean, hoping to see you. Not that. You spend all your time here. I just don't know where else to find you," he rambles, looking a little helpless as he turns his whole body away from Nyma's to face Keith's.

Nyma sighs loudly beside him, making Shiro jerk and look back at her. "I give up. You've clearly got him hooked," she says to Keith, sounding defeated as she walks away with a wave. Shiro's face turns bright red as he stares off after her and it's not until Keith clears his throat that he slowly brings his eyes back to him.

"Did you talk with her long?" Keith asks.

Shiro frowns and shakes his head. "No, I've only been here twenty minutes or so. She recognized me and came over when she got out of... somebody's car, a few minutes ago. She kept... asking for my, um. Well." His blush deepens and he doesn't continue, but Keith can guess well enough what she was asking for.

The tension that had built up from seeing Nyma with Shiro suddenly dissipates. She'd just tried to snatch him as a customer and he hadn't gone for it.

"You don't have to worry about her. She thinks she can't grab you as a customer since you've 'had' me already," Keith says, teasing a little. Shiro's eyes go a bit wide but he says nothing. "So why'd you come to see me?"

Shiro's mouth opens and a very weak sound comes out. Keith can't stop the amused smile from breaking out on his face at Shiro's nervousness as he coughs into one of his hands and tries again.

"Do you like baseball?"

That throws Keith a little, confused by the change in subject. He doesn't dislike baseball in particular, but he's never been big into sports. When he was younger, several foster parents had attempted to help him channel his energy and emotions into various sports to help with his discipline issues. He'd ended up kicked out of all of them for being too aggressive and lacking "good sportsmanship," his coaches had said.

"Why?" he asks instead of answering. He doesn't want to turn Shiro down but he doesn't want to agree to something without knowing what it is first, either.

"A friend got two tickets to the Big Cats game tonight here in the city and invited me but they had to cancel, so. I figured... if I was going to be coming down here anyway, I could ask... you?"

Keith blinks at him in surprise. He's never been invited out to a baseball game, or much of anything before. He's not sure what that entails or what he's supposed to do at one.

Shiro looks a bit nervous when Keith doesn't reply and quickly amends, "Um, not as a date! You made it clear you don't do those. Just... as friends! If you want to. You don't have to."

"I want to," Keith says, the words pushing out of him in a rush. Shiro looks surprised for a moment and then smiles slowly, looking so pleased that Keith starts to feel his own face warm from it. Keith blinks and shifts on his feet when he realizes it, glancing down at their legs to break his eyes away. "Yeah, sure, I'll go." He remembers belatedly he does still have a client to meet with and looks back up. "Wait, what time would it be?"

"It's a night game. The stadium's about ten minutes from here so you wouldn't have to get there until around six? Maybe six-thirty if you don't care about all the opening stuff."

"Okay," Keith says with a nod. "I'll meet you at six."

"Great," Shiro says.

The two stand there, not quite sure what to do next for a few moments, before Keith realizes that he's never been to a pro baseball game before. Even if the Big Cats aren't a major league team, the stadium is probably a lot different from the parks he played a few games at as a kid so he won't know what to do when he gets there.

"Wait. Give me your phone."

Shiro raises his eyebrows at the sudden instruction, but digs through his pocket to grab it and hands it over. Keith plugs in his number as a new contact and gives it back.

"Text me before the game so I'll have your number, then I'll message you when I get there."

"Okay," Shiro mumbles, staring at the phone in his hand.

"See you tonight then," Keith says before walking past him to get into the coffee shop. By the time he gets inside and sits down to wait for his scheduled regular, he only gets to catch a glimpse of Shiro's back through the window as he walks away.

He hadn't expected to see Shiro _here_ ever again. He can't keep his knee from bouncing, his surprise and pleasure refusing to settle after seeing Shiro come to find him just for his company—and not the _work_ kind of company. He wants to be friends. Keith hadn't planned on going to see Shiro again until he knew what he wanted, but that was as good an answer as any for now. He's excited for tonight, even though he doesn't remember much at all about baseball other than it involves bats and nine innings.

It's not until he gets a text a little while later that just says _This is Shiro. See you tonight._ that it dawns on him that he's just given his cell number to someone for a reason other than business, something he's never done before.

***

The walk back to his car is on unsteady legs, but Shiro makes it without collapsing. He doesn't trust his feet to work the pedals right away though so he just sits in the driver's seat for a while once he gets inside. He stares at his phone, not sure what to send before deciding simple is best and texts Keith a quick message that he'll see him tonight.

_He gave me his phone number,_ Shiro thinks, torn between stunned, disbelieving and ecstatic.

After Keith came to see him twice within a week, Shiro had started to worry that maybe he'd annoyed him after their last conversation when he didn't appear again. It was an overreaction and just Shiro being impatient probably, since Keith had admitted there was a reason he visited a second time—Shiro still hasn't quite figured out how to feel about that _personal challenge_ and hasn't thought on it much. But after that conversation, he realized he doesn't know how to contact Keith or when Keith will come to find him next, and the thought of not seeing him again because he'd embarrassed himself or ticked Keith off had spurred him into driving back out here the first chance he could despite how out of his depth he feels.

But ticked off people don't give out their numbers, right? Or agree to go on a not-date and hang out as friends for a whole night?

Shiro rummages through his pockets for the tickets and gives them a long stare. He'd bought them the moment he decided he needed some kind of excuse to come find Keith and he's not really sure this was the best idea, but he likes baseball even if he's never followed the Big Cats very closely and Keith hadn't said _no_ so... He's optimistic.

He just has to not embarrass himself around Keith tonight. He can manage that. Probably.

***

"Are you having an off day or something?"

Keith snaps his eyes up as he pulls his mouth away from Paul's cock, wiping away his spit with the back of his hand. "Uh. What?"

"I think we should just call it a day now. You're not going to make me hard again like that," Paul says, pushing at Keith's shoulder to make him sit back. Keith lets himself be pushed and watches Paul stand and walk towards the bathroom in a stupor. His eyes move again to the clock on the bedside table, and they've got at least forty-five minutes left of what they agreed to.

"Fuck," Keith hisses to himself. He doesn't get distracted during work. That's why his time is worth what it is. But all he's been able to do since Paul picked him up is wonder about what time it is and wait for it to get closer to six.

The sound of the shower running lets Keith know Paul is planning on cleaning up and leaving. Keith considers joining him in the bathroom to persuade him to stay and make sure he pays for the full three hours. He has a reputation to maintain, and the risk of Paul leaving unsatisfied makes him a bit worried—though they did fill a little over two hours that even at his most distracted Keith knows wouldn't be underwhelming by any means. But if they finish up now, Keith can clean up and get to the ballpark to meet Shiro with time to spare. 

He weighs his options and takes barely a minute to make his choice.

***

_Just parked. Where should I meet you at?_ Keith sends in a message before pulling off his helmet. It's just after six, so he's right on time.

Shiro's reply comes almost instantly. _I'm near the ticket checkers by the big ugly cat sign._

Keith's eyebrows draw together as he reads the message, but when he glances up at the stadium, he sees what Shiro is talking about within seconds. Near one of the entrances hangs a giant poster with the team's name and game schedule written out alongside what he assumes is meant to be a cat, but just looks like a poorly proportioned poodle.

"Wow, that _is_ ugly," he mutters to himself as he makes his way towards it.

The crowd isn't very dense, but it still takes a few moments of looking around once he gets to the sidewalk to spot Shiro, who's checking his phone. Keith hesitates once he sees him, because Shiro has changed what he's wearing since they ran into each other earlier.

From the handful of times they've met up, Shiro's usual outfits have been simple and casual, a pair of jeans or sweats and some kind of long-sleeve top or a looser button down left open over a t-shirt. But tonight his jeans have been swapped out for dark slacks and he has a tight-fitting black cardigan on over a purple shirt. He's not over dressed or especially formal, but he looks _gorgeous_ , and Keith worries that maybe he's dressed too casual, still wearing the same basic outfit he's had on all day. He quickly runs a hand through his hair to make sure it's not matted down from his helmet, then double checks that he doesn't smell conspicuously like sex or anything. He's just finished his once-over when Shiro's eyes land on him and they stand there, staring at each other in surprise before Keith snaps out of it and jogs over to him.

"Hey," he greets with a small one-handed wave.

"Hi," Shiro says. He smiles at Keith for a long stretch of silence, until Keith can't help but chuckle. "Oh, uh. Your ticket. Right," he says, scrambling through his pockets with a blush spreading on his face.

Keith takes the ticket once he finds it and hands it over. "Guess we should head in."

"Yeah," Shiro agrees with a nod, walking in step with Keith as they head for the ticket turnstiles. "You ever been here?"

"Nope."

"I don't think I have either. But I know the stadium's small since it's a minor league team, and on the map it looks like there aren't any bleachers behind the outfield, but we're in the lower section behind third base so we've got a decent view. Might even get a foul ball."

"Cool," Keith says. He lets Shiro lead them once they get inside and it starts to smell delicious as they walk towards their section, the scent of fried foods and popcorn making his mouth water a little bit. He hasn't eaten much since breakfast and after all the exercise he's had today, he's beginning to feel it. As if on cue, his stomach makes a loud gurgling announcement of his sudden hunger. The two of them slow to a stop and Keith clears his throat.

When he looks up at Shiro after a few embarrassed seconds, Shiro is smiling at him just as bright and relieved as he had earlier this afternoon. "Game hasn't started yet. Let's grab something to eat."

"Sounds good," Keith says, matching Shiro's smile with a small one of his own.

They find the booth with the shortest line and it takes Keith a single glance at the menu to know what he wants. Shiro takes some more time, humming with a thumb against his chin.

"I don't know if I should do a meal, like a hot dog, or get a snack, like nachos," he mumbles to himself.

"Why not both?" Keith asks.

"I try to watch what I eat. A little bit. I work at a gym, so, I get an earful about diets," Shiro explains.

"You can't just work off what you eat? That's what I do since my job's all about exercise."

"Uh. I guess I could," Shiro says, looking away. Keith feels a little bad throwing him off kilter with the mention of his job again because it's almost too easy to tease him with it, but he doesn't care to tiptoe around every mention of his work, either. Shiro tilts his head after a moment and says, "I'm just not sure I trust ballpark food to be especially kind to my stomach if I go overboard, y'know?"

"Oh. Maybe I'll skip the giant pretzel then and just stick with the rest of the menu"

Shiro laughs at that. "Good idea, spare yourself the terrifying cheese filling."

A voice sounds out over the speakers, interrupting them to announce who's singing the anthem. By the time they get to the front of the line it's already over and the first inning begins. Keith ends up with two hot dogs and a plate of nachos while Shiro settles for popcorn.

"I've got it," Keith says when Shiro starts to pull out his wallet. "I owe you for the fro-yo." He has cash to spare after today, anyway. Shiro frowns but doesn't stop him from paying, staying quiet as they take their food and start to walk down towards their seats.

"I thought you, um..." Shiro mumbles as they make their down the steps, quiet enough that Keith almost doesn't catch it.

"Thought I what?"

Keith pauses on the step in front of him, making Shiro stop to keep from bumping him, both because he's not sure how much further they're supposed to go to their seats and so he can turn his attention to Shiro and get his answer.

Shiro's face is turning red and he's staring hard at his box of popcorn. "You... kissed me. For the fro-yo, I thought."

Keith blinks at him then smiles.

"I guess you owe _me_ a kiss now," Keith says, because he remembers that kiss—a very chaste, teasing kiss on the cheek—but had forgotten he'd said that. Hearing that Shiro remembers it still, enough to fret over the idea Keith didn't remember it too, makes his heart thrum and his gut squeeze. He ignores the feeling and asks, "So where are our seats exactly?"

Shiro jumps on the chance to get away from the subject and points his finger at a few more rows down, stepping past Keith so now Keith has to follow. The stands aren't _empty_ but there's plenty of room between them and other fans, most of the crowd sitting closer to home plate. Keith sits down beside Shiro and glances around as he chows down on his first hot dog, taking in the giant scoreboard across from them and the dugout behind first base where the home team coaches and a few players are seated. It's still the top of the first inning so the visiting team is up to bat, some team called the Chameleons.

"Hey, which big cat is our team supposed to be, anyway?" Keith asks, licking some excess ketchup off his thumb. The team's baseball uniforms have stripes like a tiger, but the animal logo and letters on their hats are spotted, and every picture of the mascot seems to have a mane. 

"I think all the big cat names are trademarked elsewhere, so they just mixed them all up," Shiro says through a mouthful of popcorn. "It's really goofy looking though, right?"

Keith looks over to nod, thumb still between his lips, just as Shiro looks down at him, and things between the two of them slow for a moment. Shiro's eyes go wide, focus tight on Keith's mouth, and Keith inhales a sharp breath through his nose as he kisses the last of the taste off his skin. He looks away when he finally drops his finger and Shiro coughs roughly beside him, choking on some of his popcorn.

"I, uh, I'm gonna grab a beer, I forgot to get a drink," Shiro says between coughs. He stands to walk back up to the snack stand but pauses, waiting until his throat has cleared and he can speak clearly again. "Do you want one?"

"Can't drink. I'm probably still nineteen. I'll take a water, though."

"Okay, sure, one wa—" Shiro stops, and Keith keeps his eyes focused on the hot dog in his hands rather than meet what he knows is a very confused look. "... Right, I'll be back in a bit," Shiro says after a few moments go by, stepping past Keith and jogging back up the steps.

Keith clicks his tongue against his teeth and grimaces at his half-eaten hot dog. The atmosphere between them has been weirdly tense since he arrived. Not unpleasant, but clearly uneasy in a way different from their last couple run ins. Shiro invited him here as a friend, to hang out, and Keith is sure what he just admitted is not what normal friends like to chat about. His stomach turns unpleasantly and suddenly the ballpark food in his lap doesn't smell quite so appetizing. He doesn't take another bite, staring out and watching as the visitors strike out and the teams switch out on the field, feeling a dread creep up his neck.

The Big Cats get an out and a runner on second before Shiro comes back, and Keith takes the bottle of water handed to him without a word. They sit in silence for a minute or two before Shiro says, "So. You don't have to answer if you don't want, but what does _probably_ nineteen mean?"

Keith frowns, stealing a glance over at Shiro. He's taking a sip of his beer but has his eyes out on the field, watching the current batter swing for another strike.

"You... don't think it's weird to talk about that?"

Shiro shrugs. "I want to know more about you. It doesn't have to be that if you don't want to share though."

"But you said you just want to be friends," Keith points out, feeling confused. Friends don't want to be saddled with your life story. The people who pay for Keith's time to sob about their lives and their spouses and their friends are proof of that. Keith's life isn't worth hearing about, anyway. But Shiro turns to look at him now, raising his eyebrows and matching Keith's confusion.

"I do want to be friends. That's _why_ I want to know about you."

Keith's eyes narrow, but the dread is slipping away and his stomach unknots and he can't do anything but believe Shiro who's always so sincere.

"You're really weird."

Shiro throws his head back and laughs at that, the sound thrilling up Keith's spine with a pleasurable tingle. "I was wondering how long it'd take today to hear you call me that again."

Keith snorts and hears his belly grumble, his hunger returning, so he settles for wolfing down the rest of his first hot dog rather than say anything else. Shiro lets the topic drop and goes back to eating his popcorn, sighing when the pitcher gets the third out even though the Big Cats have two men on base. The tense air has vanished, and Keith realizes now it was nerves from the both of them, unsure of what the other was interested in. With that question answered for now, he relaxes in his seat as he works on his second hot dog, though he notices Shiro makes a point not to look his way while he eats.

"It's kind of a long story," Keith says suddenly, crumpling up the empty wrapper in his hands. "The age thing, I mean." It isn't really but it takes longer to explain than he usually likes to talk about anything, let alone himself. This is the second time Shiro's easily pulled things out of him though and he wonders if it's just some weird super power he has.

"Baseball's a long game," Shiro says, pointing at the scoreboard. The second inning has just begun, with eight more left to play.

Keith shifts in his seat and starts on his nachos as he begins, "I'm not sure when I was born because nobody is. I was found wandering around outside a supermarket, child services were called, but nobody came looking for me and no records matched me. Don't know if my birth certificate got lost, stolen or never existed, but nobody knows when or where I was born. All anyone knows about me from before I was found is my name, because it was written on the tags of my clothes, but even that was just my first name and they could've been stolen clothes. They estimated I was about a year old when they found me but I could be older, could be younger. I was malnourished too so that fucked with my growth and kept it hard to tell for sure. Eventually the orphanage had to give me some official records when they tried putting me into foster care and I've got some birthdate on my driver's license, but fuck if I know when it is or why they picked it. So I say _probably_ nineteen because I just add another year onto the age they assumed I was at the new year, and this year it's been eighteen since they found me."

Shiro is quiet for a while after Keith finishes, as if waiting just in case there's more. Keith's barely eaten his nachos, mostly poking at the cooling cheese instead.

"Wow, that's pretty intense," Shiro says, his voice quiet. The crack of a bat making contact with one of the pitches sounds out, followed by the rising cheers of fans as it gets caught in the outfield. "Does not knowing your birthday bother you?"

"No," Keith says honestly. What day he was born on doesn't change when his rent is due or when the seasons change and his ass starts to freeze while he works. All the kids at the orphanage and in foster homes celebrated group birthdays together at the start of each month anyway so he never felt like they were something unique and special, either.

"I have a friend who's big into astrology. Not knowing the exact day and time she was born would probably drive her nuts. But hey, my birthday's at the beginning of the year, too."

"It is?"

"Yeah, second week of January. Just long enough after Christmas I didn't have to worry about getting one set of gifts as a kid," he says with a laugh. Shiro gives Keith's side a soft nudge with his elbow. "We can throw a party together next year."

The offer is probably a joke, but it makes Keith's stomach squeeze.

"Sure," he says, staring down at his nachos.

"Do you want to ask me a nosy question now?"

Keith blinks back up at Shiro and raises his eyebrows. "Like what?"

"Anything. I asked you something, so it's only fair you get a shot."

"Okay," Keith says. He frowns, chewing on his bottom lip. What does he want to know? "Uh. How old are you?"

"Twenty-one, turning twenty-two next January. My answer isn't very interesting, though. Anything else you want to know?"

Keith hums as he thinks, watching the Chameleons get a third out and the teams switch as they enter the bottom of the second inning. Keith is a bit impressed with how much he remembers about the game—though if Shiro starts talking about errors or types of pitches he knows he won't be able to follow along. 

"Why'd you come to a school out in the middle of nowhere?"

Shiro chuckles. "This isn't _too_ far out into nowhere. There are towns without a fast food restaurant in them let alone a baseball stadium."

"Yeah, but compared to an actual big city, this is nowhere. It takes an hour to even get to your campus from here and there's like one rest stop in between. The other nearest towns are two and five hours out in opposite directions." Keith knows because he's gotten paid to go out to both. Riding his bike back to his apartment for five hours after a rough night with multiple customers was not a fun trip, even if he made a lot for it.

"That's true. But my school has one of the best physics departments in the country and they offered me a bunch of scholarships and grants to come so it was hard to say no."

Keith doesn't know much about college since he dropped out of high school, but he knows physics is a lot of difficult math. 

"I _knew_ you were a nerd."

Shiro laughs and the sound is warm and genuine as he looks back out at the field. Keith follows his eyes and they get to see a Big Cat batter hit a triple. Shiro takes a drink from his beer and hesitates for a moment before he asks, "How'd you end up living here?"

"I was always here," Keith says, shrugging in his seat, "Since they found me, I've just... been here. The orphanage I grew up in is here, and all of the foster homes that ever took me in are within a day's drive." It feels weird being asked these questions, but not in an unpleasant way and he doesn't mind answering. It's just... _weird_ , in the same way that so much of what Shiro does is, throwing Keith off but somehow without being frustrating despite Keith's admittedly short fuse.

"Why are you studying physics?" Keith asks when Shiro doesn't say anything else, since they're apparently taking turns. He takes a bite of his nachos before looking Shiro's way and sees him smiling, looking almost bashful.

"It's for my astrophysics major. I want to be an astronomer."

"That's cool. Like NASA and space and stuff?"

"Yeah. When I was little I wanted to be an astronaut, which would still be cool, but the more I thought about it as I got older, I realized we won't be going very far out in my lifetime, y'know? We've reached the moon and put robots on Mars but haven't gone any further, though _maybe_ we could get humans on Mars in a few decades. But space is so, so vast and people have been looking to it and trying to map it as long as there have _been_ people, and I want to study the things we still know barely anything about. I want to find more planets and galaxies and stars and whatever else that's out there, things that nobody's discovered yet. Something far beyond our own tiny solar system that, maybe one day, people from Earth will make it to."

Shiro finishes, going suddenly very quiet, and Keith watches as his face turns red. "Sorry," he mutters after a long silence, "I, uh. I talk a lot about my major if people get me started. I should've warned you."

Keith laughs, giving Shiro a gentle nudge.

"You really are a huge nerd. _Gigantic_."

"Alright, alright, I get it," Shiro says, rolling his eyes, but he's smiling and laughing a little himself, too. He's still blushing hard and can't meet Keith's eyes, but it strikes Keith that this is different from Shiro's embarrassed discomfort he's seen much more often between their handful of meetings. Keith knows immediately that he prefers Shiro like this. On the day he came to hire Keith, Shiro had been flustered and nervous and eventually uncomfortable enough to just flee, and whenever Keith has teased or brought up sex since then, he falls right back into that awkward, uneasy mood, looking ready to run away again any moment. But despite his bashfulness now, the air between them is easy and relaxed. Shiro's comfort is practically contagious, wrapping Keith up in it and keeping him just as content, and Keith is surprised by how badly he wants it to stay that way.

At least for the rest of the evening, it does. Their game of taking turns and asking questions ends up turning into a long discussion that lasts until the final play of the evening, mostly about hobbies and interests as they try to find out what they might have in common. Keith finds out Shiro's taste in movies is different than his, liking historical epics with gladiators and westerns and samurai films, though they do share a taste for sci-fi. Shiro asks about his other interests and Keith admits he doesn't have much in the way of hobbies, usually just working then watching or reading various things online during his downtime. He's the most surprised to hear Keith hasn't ever played a video game or gone to an arcade before. Eventually they turn to topics like family, mostly about Shiro's family, though Keith shares about his cat.

They don't pay much mind to the baseball as they talk except for a few big hits, cheering when the home team gets a home run. Keith doesn't even remember the score by the time they leave the stadium, but he does remember every answer Shiro gave him.

***

"Hey, can I ask one more thing?" Shiro asks as they make their way towards Keith's bike. Most of the crowd has already gone by now since they stayed behind a while, chatting as they hung around the stadium entrance to let the worst of the traffic clear out. Well, Shiro stayed behind because he wants to stay with Keith as long as he can, but he's not foolish enough to think Keith feels the same.

"Shoot," Keith says, pulling out a pair of gloves from his pockets.

"Were you going to come back to my campus again?"

Shiro's heart is starting to beat a lot faster now that the question is out, but he's feeling brave tonight. Keith spent the whole evening with him without looking or sounding too bored and Shiro only embarrassed himself a handful of times. As far as he's concerned, it went perfect, and that gives him courage to dare pushing for more.

Keith is focused on his hands as he slips them into his gloves, and as they reach his motorcycle and come to a stop he answers, "Maybe. I don't know." Shiro's not sure what that means, and feels a bit disappointed by it, but Keith looks up at him and pins him to the spot as he adds, "I wanted to, but I wasn't sure what you wanted. But since you came out here, I guess that answers that question."

Shiro feels his lungs empty out with a quiet whoosh, and his heart really begins to hammer now.

"What do I want?" he asks, struggling to hear his own voice over the rush of blood pumping in his ears.

But Keith just raises an eyebrow at him, not understanding his sudden hope.

"To be friends."

The air is silent between them for a few seconds before Shiro laughs and nods, smiling wide despite himself.

"Yeah, I really do want that." Of course that's what Keith meant. And that _is_ what Shiro wants, he isn't wrong. He just hasn't noticed anything beyond that. Which is fine. Shiro knows he shouldn't be expecting anything. "But cool. I just, I wasn't sure if you were mad at me or something, because you hadn't come by again. So. I'm glad. That you aren't."

It's Keith's turn to laugh now, and Shiro watches him a bit confused as Keith unlocks his helmet and slides his leg over the seat.

"You'd know if I was angry."

Shiro remembers the flash of impatience when they'd met in the library, how sharp and sudden it had been.

"I'll keep that in mind. Well, hey, you have my number now. I've got class all day on Mondays and Wednesdays but if you text me or something any other day about coming back down, I'd love to hang out. Maybe introduce you to Nintendo or take you to the tiny mall arcade in town, get you started on your crash course in video game education."

"Sure," Keith says, rolling his eyes with a small smile. Shiro is determined to get Keith to try every console. He's never met anyone his age who hasn't ever touched a video game system, but he'll be damned if he lets Keith get away without at least playing Pac Man.

Keith starts to pull his helmet on when Shiro interrupts, "Wait." Keith looks at him patiently, helmet barely tugged down over his hair. Shiro's quiet for a minute, debating with himself if he should say anything or just forget it. Shiro has Keith's number, learned a bunch of stuff about him, and they're friends now, or at least on their way to it. That's more than what he ever expected when he first laid his eyes on Keith. But he can't help himself.

"Uh. Do I still owe you? The, um. The kiss."

The look on Keith's face is blank at first, but shifts slowly into a mix of amused and pleased.

"Yeah, but hold onto it for now. I'll save it for a rainy day." Shiro feels his face start to burn at the promise of Keith asking for a kiss as Keith pulls his helmet on the rest of the way and starts up his bike. Before he flips the visor down he gives Shiro a thoughtful look, but shakes his head as if deciding against whatever he'd considered and says instead, "I'll see you later, Shiro."

"See you," Shiro says, still feeling stunned. He watches Keith give him a small wave and ride off, then gradually makes the short walk over to where his car is parked. He spends the hour drive back to campus wondering when Keith might come calling to collect his debt and what that kiss would be like.


End file.
